In the Arms of Oppression - Episode 1: Crisis

"I can't let you leave," I say. "Not until you face justice for this."

"ЧТО?"

"You shut the fuck up... I have enough evidence to turn you in for this, and I'm not letting you go without punishment."

"Daniel, you can't be serious!"

"You think I'm playing? I'll prove you wrong, then. GET THE FUCK OVER HERE."

Raising his hands, he lifts himself from the cold, damp pavement and approaches me slowly.

"Stop." He obeys. "Now strafe to the left." He does so, still cautious. After several steps, I stop him with a gesture. "Stay right there. I swear, if you even turn, your torso is Swiss cheese." Dropping the FMG-9, I reach for a folded liner lock knife in my boot, unfold it, and put the edge on Twilight's hoof binds. "Twilight, I need you to listen, okay...? We're going to call authorities, but I need your help... Can I trust you...?" She hums in acknowledgement. "Alright... There's a phone in my back pocket... I need you to grab it and call 911, whilst I make sure Artyom doesn't go anywhere..." I then cut each individual piece of her binds, starting with the hoof binds. After that comes the wing binds.

"I can't believe you'd do this," grumbles Artyom.

"The feeling's mutual, Artyom."

"Hey, we could have-"

" 'We could have' nothing..." I cut the blindfold. "I'd rather put my own life at stake than let you rape a pony." Twilight stands up and removes the gag herself.

"Ёбанный в рот..."

I hold the knife backwards and support my right hand with my left. "I can hear you."

He snarls. "Перейти ебать себя."

"What's he saying," Twilight asks meekly.

"Vulgar things, Twilight. It's best that I don't translate them."

"Ah..." She then lifts my trench coat, grabs my phone, and works on calling 911.

"You know what I'm saying," states Artyom.

"I do," I reply, "but I'd rather not translate for Twilight. She-"

"Go fuck yourself. That was one."

"Uh huh..."

"As expected..." mutters Twilight. She then holds the phone infront of her, putting the call on speaker. "Hello?"

"9-1-1," responds a muffled female voice. "What's your emergency?"

"Hi, uhm... A rapist - by the name Artyom - attempted to rape me. I'm here with him, along with his renegade, whom I have to thank for preventing it."

"Name and address?"

"Twilight Sparkle. We're in an alleyway along, uh..." She looks at me. "Where are we?"

"We're in an alleyway along Oakland Road, near the intersection with Hibernia Road. There's a flashlight set up pointing towards the street, so your patrols can't miss us."

"...Law enforcement is on their way. Hold still."

"Thank you," praises Twilight before ending the call. "I'll set up the flashlight."

"Go ahead, then."

She picks up the FMG-9, collapses it, turns on the flashlight, and sets it down with the cone of light directed out into the street. "And now we wait."

"Yep..."

Some two to three minutes pass, with Twilight and me staring down Artyom. He made no sudden moves or attempted anything. He's completely docile. I know he's planning something. But what?

The police arrive - two of them in one car, both with Glocks of their own drawn.

"Drop the weapons," one shouts.

I glance down at Twilight. "C'mon..." Locking my eyes and my Glock's sights on Artyom, I pace towards the police, should he try anything. Once at an appropriate distance, I holster my gun, fold my pocket knife and return aforementioned knife to my boot.

"Detain him," says the other one. "I got your back."

Fuck...

I glare at the approaching law enforcement, only to notice him approaching Artyom instead of me. Relief overwhelms my mind, both with Artyom being detained, and the officer passing me by. He must understand that I'm the turncoat.

Soon as Artyom's in handcuffs, the defending officer holsters his Glock and takes out a notepad whilst approaching me. A pencil slipped within the coil finds its way into his hand and against the notepad. "Name and birthdate?"

"Daniel. 23 November, 1998."

Writing down the info in record time, he flips the page just a second after I finish stating the information. "Give me the gist of it. What happened?"

"In summary," I proceed, "Artyom kidnapped poor Twilight here and tried to rape her. Luckily, I was there to stop him... and as you saw, I was holding him at gunpoint. Shot him once in the leg to incapacitate him with a jolt of pain, furthermore making disarming him easier."

"You shot him?"

"Yes, sir. He had a gun himself, so..."

"Where is it?"

"It's that thing on the floor there."

He turns to the FMG-9, its tactical light illuminating the end of the alleyway and the cruiser, combating the flashing red-and-blue lights for a place on the pavement and both brick walls. "That's a gun?" he asks with apparent skepticism, pointing his pencil at it.

"A Magpul FMG-9, sir. It stands for Folding Machine Gun, compatible with Glock magazines and chambered in 9x19mm Parabellum. It's meant for conceal carry... which seems to have worked, if I'm completely honest."

He chuckles. "I gotta keep up with the weapon industry."

"I second that."

"...Alright.." He pockets the notepad. "The next time you catch a criminal... well, you know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

"Good evening, Daniel." He glances at Twilight. "Twilight."

"Likewise, officer," she replies.

The officer nods and makes his way to the cruiser, Artyom locked in the back of the car, staring me down as if to say 'This isn't over.' A scowl upon him, he continues to glare until the cruiser pulls away.

"What a night," sighs Twilight.

"Oh yeah..."

"Hey, uhm... Do you mind stopping by my house? I'm sure that once I explain to them what happened, they'd like to know you were there."

Deny.

Accept.